Haiku Society of America

Haiku Society of America Haiku Award
in Memorial of Harold G. Henderson

Judges' Commentary for 2024

P.H. Fischer & Annette Makino

This year 195 poets submitted a total of 1239 poems to the Henderson contest. Though it seemed daunting at first to assess so many haiku, it turned out to be a very interesting and rewarding process. Each haiku opened a window into a unique world. We often found ourselves looking up topics to explore the levels of meaning in the poem, such as plant species, scientific phenomena or colloquial expressions. In so doing, we gained a deeper understanding of a small corner of the universe.

Although we scored without knowing the authors or the other judge’s scores, it turned out that we were closely aligned on the strongest poems. Alas, some of our favorites were ultimately left out of the winner’s circle because we deemed them to be senryu, thus more suited to the Brady contest. And there were other excellent poems that did not quite place in this contest, but we fully expect to see them published in the leading haiku journals.

We are grateful to HSA Second VP Sarah Paris for coordinating the contest process. And a deep bow of thanks to all the submitting poets who graciously invited us into their worlds. ~Annette Makino

 

~ First Place ~

blue skies—
finding the nowhere
I'd rather be

Matthew Markworth, OH, USA

The strongest haiku continue to resonate long after the few seconds it takes to read them. This playful, offbeat poem entranced us from the very start and has been rolling around in our heads ever since.

Though the opening image of “blue skies” could take place any time of year, it is most evocative of the long, delicious days of summer. The choice of the plural “skies” rather than “sky” deepens the sense of spaciousness and unlimited possibility. One can imagine swaying in a hammock or floating on one’s back in a pool or lake.

The unusual phrasing of lines two and three takes a moment to decipher. It then opens to the meaning of “there’s nowhere I’d rather be,” evoking a mood of utter contentment. On further reading, the poem expands to imply a Zen-like non-attachment to the sense of self: the freedom to simply exist, fully present and free of ego.

The verb “finding” presents an interesting question: has the poet found this state of perfect peace, or are they describing an ongoing process? We fallible humans are likely to experience such a state only in fleeting moments. But this sensation is all the more precious for its evanescence.

The repeated “i” sounds in each line—“skies,” “finding,” “I’d”—create pleasing assonance. And there is a subtle cross-poem symmetry between lines one and three: not only the assonance of “skies” and “I'd” but also the consonance of the first and last words, “blue” and “be.” These internal connections serve to unify the poem.

This eight-word haiku contains many possible readings—the sky’s the limit!—and is our top pick in a very competitive field. ~Annette Makino

 

~ Second Place ~

first fireflies
the little boy
in my voice

Frank Hooven, PA, USA

Echoing William Wordsworth’s poem “My Heart Leaps Up,” the subject of this beautiful haiku captures the theme of nature’s enduring wonder. The voice in the poem, childlike and timeless, affirms Wordsworth’s belief that “the child is the father of the man.” Witnessing fireflies for the first time (ever, or this year), the poet’s voice sparkles with delight, reminding us that the capacity for awe need not fade with age.

This haiku also brings to mind John Stevenson’s poem:

a change in their voices . . .
children finding
a fledgling

But in “first fireflies,” instead of observing children, the poet observes himself, pleasantly aware that, after all these years, his childlike amazement remains.

The poet employs consonance in line one; the “f” sounds are like sparks of light, and the assonance in the “o” sounds of lines two and three link the child and the adult in their shared experience of wonder. Much like the fireflies it describes, the language zips and glows.

This haiku leaped off the page and landed in the hearts of the judges, serving as a gentle invitation to reconnect with our own inner child whose awe of nature endures. ~ P. H. Fischer

 

~ Third Place ~

spring equinox
a canoe flipped
upside up

Matthew Markworth, OH, USA

Ah, spring! This haiku places us on the precipice of a new season—the vernal equinox, that celestial event when day and night stand in near-perfect balance. But turning the calendar page isn’t enough to convince us. We desire tangible signs of spring’s arrival: a neighbor power-washing their deck, first cherry blossoms, or the fresh whack of a baseball bat. Until then, winter’s grip remains clenched.

This haiku initially mirrors that skepticism. The second line, with its flipped canoe, creates concern. Has the paddler experienced some unfortunate mishap on the still ice-cold waters? We are relieved to discover in line three that the canoe sits flipped “upside up”—a playful twist in the poem (love those jaunty percussive “p” sounds!) which transforms the scene. Once stored upside down for winter, the canoe is now ready for action, signaling that spring has indeed sprung!

We rated this poem for its ability to subvert our expectations, just as spring flips the world right-side up. Starting with a fairly common kigo (“spring equinox”), the poet upends their own poem with an astonishingly fresh seasonal reference that captures the spirit of spring—rejuvenation, adventure, and the joy of new beginnings. This new kigo also enlivens the old one as the upturned canoe mirrors the planet’s recalibration.

This award-winning poem reminds us that sometimes the smallest signs can be the most profound, flipping our lives back into balance as we welcome the much-anticipated season. ~ P. H. Fischer

 

~ Honorable Mention ~

deep into summer . . .
eating the seeds
with the melon

Barrie Levine, MA, USA

Whether we’re at summer’s midpoint or tail-end, the first line of this delightful haiku finishes with an ellipsis that invites the reader to pause and reflect. Where did the time go? What remains of the season? As the days shorten and the first leaves fall, there’s an unspoken urgency in that ellipsis to savor the vestiges of the season.

In lines two and three, the juicy, almost hedonistic image of eating the seeds along with the melon perfectly captures this call to action. Why waste time picking out seeds? The poem’s subject embraces the ripeness of the moment and dives right in! As autumn looms on the horizon, this haiku preserves the essence of summer in one sweet, vivid snapshot.

P.S. Maybe those three dots are not just an ellipsis, but tiny melon seeds, adding an extra bit of fun to this poem! ~ P. H. Fischer

 

~ Honorable Mention ~

receiving my sign name—
a painted lady
brushes my cheek

Kelly Sargent, VT, USA

For most of us, this lovely poem offers an entrée into an unfamiliar but rich world. In delving into this haiku, we learned that in the Deaf community, sign names (also called name signs) are a way to refer to someone without fingerspelling their whole name. Those raised with Deaf parents are usually given a sign name soon after birth, while a hearing person who is accepted and included in the Deaf community may be honored with a sign name later in life.

In this haiku, the author juxtaposes the privilege of receiving a sign name with the experience of a butterfly brushing a cheek, a sort of cosmic blessing. We also imagine that the sign name itself may involve placing a hand on the cheek.

The soft sounds of the “sh” in “brushes” and “ch” in “cheek” echo the gentleness of the butterfly’s touch. This haiku stands out for its skillful, delicate approach to a highly original subject. ~Annette Makino

 

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About the Judges

Annette Makino lives in Arcata, California, on the unceded ancestral lands of the Wiyot people. She runs an art business, Makino Studios, based on her haiga and other art (makinostudios.com). Her first full-length book, Water and Stone: Ten Years of Art and Haiku, won Honorable Mention in the HSA Merit Book Awards, and her poems have been honored in the Touchstone Awards, the Harold G. Henderson Haiku Contest, the Gerald Brady Senryu Contest and the Porad Haiku Award, among others. 
 
P. H. Fischer lives in Vancouver, Canada on the traditional, ancestral and unceded territories of the Coast Salish peoples. Peter is the current Co-Editor of Prune Juice Journal. Along with Annette Makino, he edited Winds Aloft, the 2023 Seabeck Haiku Getaway Anthology. His poetry appears in international haiku/senryu/haibun journals and anthologies including the Red Moon Anthologies, Haiku 2023 (Modern Haiku Press), and Contemporary Haibun. He is a past winner of the Haiku Invitational of the Vancouver Cherry Blossom Festival.